


Distraction

by carma19



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26183782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carma19/pseuds/carma19
Summary: Working from home, Sony Music Lead Producer Beca Mitchell participates in an important team meeting via Zoom. Her impatient girlfriend, however, is tired of vying for her attention.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 17
Kudos: 177
Collections: StorytimeF4A





	Distraction

Working from home was _mostly_ okay. 

**Pros:** Constant PJ pants. No subway. No _people_. Way fewer interruptions. Regular lunch breaks with Chloe. MORE SLEEP.   
**Cons:** Collabs are hard. No legit studio time. Fucking ZOOM MEETINGS.

The latter had been the bane of Beca’s existence for the past five months, when her record label closed offices thanks to the goddamn pandemic. 

Beca had worked in the music industry for a while now in several different roles, and meetings had always been her least favorite part. In person, Beca always hated the setup--a long table with uncomfortable chairs, some inconsiderate douchebag smacking their gum too loud, subpar coffee. She grew antsy in her chair without music to focus on, found her attention wandering as she doodled on the corners of her notepad, and she had to train herself to stop rolling her eyes. (That was a life skill she’d been working on in general, as an apparent Functioning Adult.)

At first, Beca thought Zoom meetings would be less torturous, mostly because she happened to _love_ her at-home workspace. When she and Chloe moved into their 3 bedroom townhome, Beca reserved one to set up her personal home office since she tended to bring her work home with her often. 

A mahogany desk faced the door with a high-backed leather chair behind it. An iMac stood upon the desk, surrounded by expensive music production equipment. A window to the right filtered in bright, natural light. Behind the chair--providing the background to her now regular Zoom calls--stood a bookcase lined with musical scores, music theory books and equipment manuals, and old school vinyls and CDs with a few picture frames used as bookends. Beside the bookcase, a shelving unit boasted her prized Grammy Award flanked by the ICCA and Worlds plaques she’d earned with the Bellas. On the wall beside her, she’d mounted her Barden University diploma along with her platinum selling solo album titled “Clarity”, which she’d released during her brief stint as a performer.

Beca’s phone alarm vibrated atop her desk, yanking her out of her two and a half hour mixing zone. She sighed and removed her Sennheiser Pros from her ears, glancing up at the clock she’d hung over the doorway. 

2:55. 

One more meeting, then she’d be free for the weekend. Of course it had to be her most intense meeting of the week--the whole team review for one of the most anticipated albums dropping this year.

She reached into her desk drawer and ran a brush through her hair. Using the selfie-mode camera on her phone, Beca made sure her eye makeup remained on point and she hastily applied some rouge tinted chapstick. Then she stood and slid the pinstriped blazer she’d ironed and draped over the back of her chair earlier that morning over her sleeveless blouse. 

_Bzzz!_

Beca checked her phone again, dropping back into her seat.

**Chloe** (2:57): _Hey hot shot, can you take a break soon?? I’m sooo bored_ :(

Beca fired off a reply, smiling sadly.

**Beca** (2:58): _I wish, babe. One more meeting, then I’m all yours._

**Chloe** (2:58): _What if I can’t wait that long…?_

**Beca** (2:59): _Seriously? You can keep yourself busy for one more hour, drama queen. You’ll survive._ :P

_Ping!_

Ugh. The meeting notification flashed on her Google Calendar. 

Beca mentally readied herself to actively participate by straightening her slouchy posture and raking a hand through her hair once more. She set her phone on silent--face down to avoid distractions--and clicked the red “Join Zoom” button.

[ _unread message_ ]  
 **Chloe** (3:01): 😈

Ten faces popped up on Beca’s massive Apple monitor, Brady Bunch style. She offered a tight-lipped smile while a few others connected. 

The meeting host--Beca’s direct supervisor and boss--cleared his throat. (Beca was pretty sure he too wore cozy pants beneath his snazzy suit jacket and tie.) “Good afternoon, Team Sony Music Group. I thiiiink everyone’s here? Let me check the--yep, we’re all here, so let’s get started! Since we have a few non-in-house folks on this call let’s go around and do some introductions. My name’s Jason Kyte, I’m a junior music executive for the label. Who wants to go next?”

Three seconds of awkward silence passed before four others jumped in at once.

Beca inwardly groaned. She waited for the others to state their names and titles.

Her over-eager assistant jumped in first. “Hey guys! Ethan Davis- Assistant Producer here at Sony.” 

The pretty-faced pop/rocker dude Beca had been working with for the better part of the year waved into his camera. “Hey everyone. Shawn Mendes. Recording Artist with Sony.”

Shawn’s team (including his General Manager, Social Media Manager, Publicist, and Stylist) went next. Then a few more Sony employees took their turns.

Beca cast everyone an awkward wave. “What’s up, everyone? Beca Mitchell, Lead Producer for Sony and Shawn’s new EP.” 

A beat later, an unexpected screen entered among the other Zoom tiles. Upon recognizing the old man’s face, Beca’s posture snapped straighter and she smoothed down her hair once again. 

“Mr. Stringer!” Jason fumbled over his pile of notes, emitting a nervous chuckle. “Didn’t realize you’d be joining us today, sir. Everyone, this is our label President, Rob Stringer.” 

Rob smiled from his wingback chair--one of many in what must be a freakin’ huge mansion, Beca assumed--and nodded. “How could I not attend the final team planning meeting for our most anticipated album of the year? Carry on, Mr. Kyte.”

“Okay, great! Great to have you, Mr. Stringer,” Jason said. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool…”

Beca’s lips pulled inward as she bit back a grin, watching as Jason began sweating profusely on camera. 

A sudden high-pitched yappy barking noise cut through her speakers and her features twisted into a grimace. 

Ethan’s tile flashed green around its edges. 

_Dammit, Ethan_. 

Watching everyone else’s pained reaction, Beca took responsibility for her underling. “Ethan, dude--we can hear Fiona. Mute your mic.” 

Ethan gasped. “Oh, right! Sorry!” 

Beca settled back and waited for Jason to get his shit together, muting her microphone out of respect. 

“Right, so here we go.” Jason wiped his brow. “I’m gonna shaaaare my screen… can everybody see it??” 

Beca flashed a thumb’s up, squinting as she scanned the meeting agenda. The third bullet point pulled her attention first: _MITCHELL -- PRODUCTION UPDATE_. She reached for her notepad and flipped to the page of notes she’d prepared to deliver in her own chicken scratch handwriting, when something in the doorway caught her eye over the top of her iMac screen.

Some _one_.

Chloe leaned against the door frame, pinning Beca with an unmistakable _look_. She toyed with the tie of the navy silk robe _barely_ hitting her mid-thigh, sculpted legs bare as her painted toes sunk into the plush carpeting of Beca’s office. 

Beca’s jaw fell slack before she slammed it shut, remembering she was on camera. (With her boss _and_ the goddamn label _president_.) She managed to cut Chloe a hasty warning sort of glare over the top of her screen before smoothing out her facial expression. 

After intros, Shawn Mendes discussed his creative process for his latest record, thanking both Rob and Jason and his own team one by one.

Making sure her mic remained muted, Beca spared Chloe another quick look. Panic laced in her tone as she tried desperately--ventriloquist-style--to not move her mouth too much or call attention to herself in any way. “What are you _doing?_ I’m in a big meeting!”

At least her girlfriend had the sense to keep her voice low, just in case. (Low and raspy and _sexy_ , holy shit.) “I know how boring these meetings are for you, Bec. Figured you’d appreciate a little fun distraction to help you through.” Chloe tossed Beca a patented Beale wink as she sauntered forward and--dear god, tugged open the robe to reveal a lacy matching bra and panties set beneath. “Can you turn your camera off for a bit? Pretend you’re going to the bathroom or something?” 

“No. Not allowed,” Beca mumbled, wishing their company Zoom policy didn’t fucking suck ass and always require cameras on. A rush of heat swept through Beca like a goddamn arousal tornado, and she hoped like hell her coworkers didn’t notice the sudden tinge of redness spreading throughout her cheeks and upper chest beneath her blazer. Transfixed, her gaze lingered on her gorgeous girlfriend, who approached and perched sideways at the front corner of her desk with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

Chloe licked her lips and ran the tips of her fingers along the soft skin bulging slightly from the tops of her push-up bra cups, tracing the fabric as she kept her hooded gaze locked on Beca. 

“--and last but not least I wanna thank Beca, who’s by far the most talented producer I’ve ever worked with.” Shawn Mendes smiled wide at the camera. “You brought my vision to life and beyond. I’m so grateful.” 

Beca jolted at the sudden mention, snapping her attention back to her screen. She reached out with a shaky hand to unmute her mic and let out a puff of a chuckle, trying to play it cool. “Don’t mention it, man. Sure thing. It’s been a pleasure working with you.” She cleared her throat, unable to fully suppress the unmistakable rasp of desire in her tone. “This album’s gonna be your dopest yet. We totally crushed it.” She muted her mic once again.

Chloe beamed with pride--though Beca wasn’t sure if said pride was due to her ability to affect Beca so viscerally, or because Beca had just been complimented by fellow award-winning musician Shawn freakin’ Mendes in front of her boss _and_ the label president. (Both, knowing Chloe. Probably both.)

Shawn’s team began delivering their updates one by one. Jason talked about projected release dates (for singles and the full album) and mentioned a vague window for Shawn’s upcoming tour. 

Shawn’s Social Media Manager asked Jason questions about said release dates. 

And Chloe’s other hand slipped between her own legs. She tipped her head back and emitted a soft sigh as she touched herself--her positioning off _just enough_ to frustrate Beca, who couldn’t see fully thanks to Chloe’s perfectly sculpted thigh. 

“ _Fuck_ , Chloe,” Beca grumbled, shifting on her chair in a weak attempt to relieve the sudden pulsating ache between her own legs. 

Chloe purred. “What’s the matter, Bec? Am I too distracting?” A wicked smirk twisted on Chloe’s painted lips and her eyes fluttered open to half-mast, brow quirking curiously at Beca. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Beca growled, continuing to keep her mouth as still as possible while she hissed at her girlfriend. “But you’re in _so much trouble_ later, I swear to god…” 

Chloe’s grin turned sheepish. “That better be a promise, baby.” She withdrew her hand from between her legs and brought it to her own lips, sucking the tips of her fingers.

“Holy shit,” Beca breathed, steely gaze glassy and unfocused. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” With an easy shrug, Chloe hopped off the desk and ducked, disappearing out of sight. 

“Beca?” Jason called. “Are you ready to present your update?”

Beca once again refocused on the Zoom call and hurried to unmute herself, nodding. “Yep! Yeah. I mean yes, absolutely. Production update. Here we go…” She inhaled deeply, hoping like hell her painfully aroused flush wasn’t evident on camera. Taking the notepad and her ballpoint pen, she began delivering her report. “Shawn’s new EP, _Identity_ , will have a total of fourteen tracks with two bonus tracks for a deluxe edition, as requested by upper execs. Ten of those tracks are completely finished--signed, sealed, delivered, as they say. The remaining four--” A feather-light touch tickled Beca’s ankle and she cut herself off with a sharp gasp, shifting and whacking her knee into the side of the desk on reflex. She grimaced in pain, shooting a glare beneath her desk…

Where Chloe curled up on her knees, wrinkling her nose in apology. 

“Beca? Are you okay?” 

Beca’s focus snapped back to the screen and her head bobbed in a jerky nod. “Yeah, s-sorry. It was my, um--my cat. Scared the shit out of me…” 

She could’ve sworn she heard Chloe whisper “Meow” beneath her desk… as she skimmed her hands more solidly up and down Beca’s pajama-covered calves. 

“Anyway, as I was saying…” Beca continued, trying to find her spot in her notes. “Track eleven-- _Dormant_ \-- is in the final stages of production, so we’re just putting our finishing _touches_ \--” Beca swallowed hard as Chloe’s fingers curled around the waistband of her pajama bottoms and tugged them downward. Licking her lips, Beca cleared her throat and continued, shifting slyly enough so Chloe could drag them all the way down. She took a deep, steadying breath as Chloe’s soft, strong hands slid up the tops of her thighs. 

“So we’ll have a finished Track Eleven by the end of next week, is what you’re saying?” Jason asked, hope lacing his tone.

“Yes. Mid next week, even. I need two more days with it.” Beca glanced back down to her notes, watching for a beat as Chloe’s thumb skimmed her inner thigh until it grazed the now sticky patch of cotton between her legs. _Holy fucking fuck._ She blew out a hard breath, knowing she could-- _should_ \--easily signal for Chloe to stop at any moment. But she couldn’t fucking resist this. 

She couldn’t fucking resist _Chloe_. Ever. 

Beca’s voice wavered but only slightly. “Track twelve-- _Ready or Not_ \-- is almost finished, too. That one I’ll get to you by end-of-day next Friday.”

“Wonderful,” Jason confirmed, relief washing over his expression. “The last two--do you think you can get them wrapped by the three week deadline?”

“I think so,” Beca confirmed, though honestly she couldn’t really remember much of anything now that Chloe had peeled her underwear aside, slowly running her knuckles through her sopping folds. 

_Notes, Beca. Read your goddamn notes._

She tightened her hold on her pen and pointed to where she’d left off. “Track thirteen-- _Back In Your Arms_ \-- we’ve got Halsey booked to record her verse next Thursday, so I’ll have p-plenty of time to--to wrap that one…” Her breathing grew labored and a sheen of sweat pebbled at her hairline, and Beca hoped it wasn’t noticeable. 

Aware of the dozen-or-so sets of eyes on her through that goddamn computer screen, Beca mustered her will to continue. (As Chloe continued, replacing her fingers with the flat of her tongue, slow-motion lapping at her with frustratingly light pressure.) “Track fourteen…” Beca’s voice cracked on the last syllable. She had never been so turned on and she had no idea how her brain was even functioning at that point, with her body on fire and hips canting forward, chasing more craved pressure. She leaned forward and braced her hand on her forehead in a weak attempt to compose herself, the move causing her hypersensitive pierced nipples to graze against the fabric of her bra, shocking her body with yet another wave of pressure.

“Beca?” It was her assistant, Ethan, coaxing her to continue this time.

Beca glanced down at her sheet and couldn’t help the inelegant snort escaping before she looked back at the screen. “Track fourteen is titled _Tasty_.” (Because of fucking course it was.) Beca _felt_ Chloe’s chuckle against her heat, then her delighted hum as she leaned forward and got down to business. The hand not clutching her pen reached down to thread her fingers through Chloe’s flowing red locks, determined to complete her presentation (before Chloe brought _her_ to completion.). “It’s half finished. I need two more studio sessions with Shawn and-- _ohmygod_.”

Chloe’s fingers sunk inside her while her tongue continued encircling her clit. 

A decompressing chuckle puffed free as Beca tapped her pen against her temple. “Sorry, I just--I realized I’m… _m-much further along_ than I thought…” She schooled her expression into a serious one. “I’ll have all the tracks ready to go by the deadline. A few days before, even.” She dropped her pen and cast her bosses a jaunty two-finger salute.

“Great! That’s excellent news. Fantastic work, Beca and Ethan. You two are one hell of a production team.” Jason brightened and moved on. “Aaaand next on the agenda is Jamie! Jamie, let’s talk marketing.” 

_Thank fuck._ Beca slammed the “Mute Mic” button and dug her heel into Chloe’s back, bracing one hand over her own mouth in what she hoped like hell came off as a casual manner on screen. “Chloe, I swear to god…” she rasped, whimpering despite all efforts not to.

Chloe hummed happily, tongue swirling in the pattern she knew Beca craved most while her fingers pumped in and out of Beca’s heat, crooking against the spongy patch of tissue deep inside her. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Beca growled, panting hard as her coworkers blabbed on about projected sales numbers and profits and other monetary bullshit she couldn’t have given an iota of a fuck less about in that moment. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she slammed them closed as she barreled toward that precipice and flew the fuck over it. Beca’s fingers threaded through Chloe’s hair tightened into a fist as she jerked forward, riding out the waves of bliss as her cries boomed off the walls of her home office. 

When she came down, she blinked her eyes open and scanned the screen. All participants were either staring with bored, glazed-over expressions while Jamie yammered on about marketing, or trying (and failing) to be sly about texting on camera. 

Nobody seemed to notice the Lead Producer had just climaxed in front of their eyes. 

Beca sat up straighter and forced a deep, trembling breath, daring a glance beneath her desk. 

Chloe sat back on her heels, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with both love and lust as she stared at Beca with an unrepentant smile.

Unable to resist, Beca ducked down and cupped Chloe’s cheek, capturing her essence-coated lips in a hot, bruising kiss that made Chloe moan into her mouth. 

“God, so hot,” Chloe wheezed when Beca pulled back.

“You could’ve gotten me fired, Beale,” Beca husked, shooting her a heatless glare while she straightened back up and pretended she’d only tied her shoe or something. Casually bracing her hand over her mouth to hide it once again, she nudged Chloe’s hip with her toe. “I’m off this call in 20 minutes. You better get the strap good and ready for me.” 

An anticipatory groan escaped Chloe. “You got it, hot shot.” Crawling back out from beneath Beca’s desk, Chloe sauntered out of her office and turned toward their bedroom. 

And Beca decided working from home was _definitely_ better than okay.

**Author's Note:**

> All reviews are greatly appreciated! Connect with me on Tumblr @ starlightscape :D


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